Ch: 166 Make A Grown Man Cry
In the garden, the sun was hiding behind a bank of dark clouds. Not the towering anvils of a thunderstorm, but the low, slow, creeping drift of slow, lingering rain. He summoned a canvas awning over the patio, to continue the evening the ladies were enjoying so much. A number of Tawny’s floating tummies lingered for tea and a chat with the common dressed nobles. All the parties seemed to be getting something from the unofficial mixing of social classes, each woman feeling she was getting away with something naughty, in addition to sharing all the juiciest gossip.
The rain swept in, warm and soft, it drenched the sun warmed, evening garden and sent up a mist that quickly became fog. In that drifting white haze, Shai danced among the ladies, to the music of his discrete shadow band. Slowly, she wandered farther and farther towards the edge of the cover, running her fingers through the rain.
Gary was still buttling and toting snacks around, trying hard to be a good boy… He felt a hand on his shoulder, spinning him about in a very familiar way, directly into Shai’s arms. “Come boy, hae a dance wi me ere bed, the ladies kin fend fer themselves.” Without waiting for an answer, she spun him around her hips and took control. His world contracted at her touch, shrinking encompass only her hands, hips, lips and those jingling bells.
His shadow band played on and on, hurling a rambling bossa nova improvisation into the night sky, as the ladies took the hint and started making themselves scarce.
She led and lured him all around the little dance floor that was essential at any Shai party, then out into the empty chairs and tables. Before long, she was spinning and twirling in the warm misting rain and fog, always just out of reach, but near enough to tease. He watched her dance, while stepping in time to her wild gyrations and swaying hips, watched until even her tireless hips began to flag.
“You know, I can totally see your tittynipples…” He whispered with a leer, taking it all in, as she finally wound down. “Your dress has been transparent for an hour now.”
She balled her fists on her hips and stood almost still, in frustration. “Of course, foolish boy! T’will be hard tae peel me out of it, an these lovely naughties mayhap be spoilt… tis worth it tae see thee look so wanton. Thou art a wretched an naughty man, ye should be ashamed…”
Her smile, wink and shimmy of those lovely, lace clad boobs left him weak in the knees.
That smooth dress of white cotton had vanished against her skin at the first drops of rain, as had her lace underthings, becoming a delicious frothy topping on the dessert he planned to enjoy.
“I’m just trying to be a good boy…” He whispered huskily.
#
“I’ll get you a snack in a minute Angie, there’s a couple idiots making out in the kitchen right now…” Becky said quietly, as she eased the door closed.
“Should we go watch?” Angie asked with a giggle. “It’s not peeping if they are in the kitchen!”
“Gross. You don’t wanna know what those two get up to, it’ll give you a complex.” Becky said, closing the door more assertively.
“Tell me about them, they seem so ill matched until they look at eachother or touch.” Angie asked, with her cheeks reddening.
Becky gave her a long look and smiled. “Shai’s an orphan, but she got adopted out by family, not close enough to make Contracts, but close. After years of orphanage training, years at the forge and now cultivation practices, you see the results. She’s a tireless, dance-crazed monster with the strength and stamina to beat up grown knights with a wooden sword for fun and she’s still my beloved sweet sister...” She leaned back on her bed grinning. “She taught me the sword and how to read. I think she was always secretly hoping I’d become a smith.”
“What about him, he’s so…” She fell silent, looking down at the miracle she was balancing a teacup on. Only by focusing, could she even see through the illusion of a normal, healthy leg to the beautiful wooden creation underneath. She couldn’t even feel the difference between them.
“Gary… He’s exactly what he appears to be… A monster from beyond time and space, with a head filled with the most wonderful, beautiful, amazing, splendid, hideous and depraved things… All mushed together and stirred with a spoon.”
“Really… I’m not a child, to believe the tales circulating in the town. We’ve only been here a few days and the gossip is extraordinary.” Angie smiled and shook her head in wonder. “The duchess visited a seamstress on Shai’s recommendation… The woman is gifted with a needle and shears, but she spun tales as fast as she sewed.”
“Jennah, yes, she knows everything worth knowing and everyone knows her.” Becky’s smile was crooked and just a little mad, an echo of the strange man’s, yet completely her own. “I’d wager that most of what she said was either true, or close to the truth.”
“Impossible, she went on about fairy stories walking the land, demons and the undead rising within sight of city walls. There were slaver raids, grounddragons and monster lobsters eating cities…”
Becky tugged on an earlobe, lost in thought. “It was a monster crawdaddie and it nearly ate one of our team… There was a giant sea anemone, snail, octopus creature that ate a small fishing village, not a city…”
She paused for a moment, gathering her memories. “Oh, the colossal genital demon, it was supposed to ‘eat’ Wheatford, but we broke up the summoning… it’s been a busy few months.”
“So you are saying that all these things happened… more or less.” Angie muttered sulkily. “There’s more strangeness around this town and this place than…”
Becky stopped her with a sharp glance and a raised palm. “Nothing we say or do makes sense… until your perspective changes and everything snaps into focus… then the rest of the world stops making sense.”
She took the girl by the hand and led her out to the kitchen, smiling happily.
“They finally took it upstairs… those two…” Her fond and happy glance at the stairs said it all.
Together, they raided the kitchen and slunk back up to the kid’s room. All three little ones were piled in Rio’s bed with Nara, passed out in a tangle of arms and legs. Becky drew a curtain partition across the room, one that Angie was pretty sure had not been there when they went to the kitchen.
“That dream place, where we met lady Thirp… what was that, how do you all meet there, how did I get there? My head is in a whirl.” The pale young woman asked, with a mug of cocoa balanced on her brand new knee.
“Gary and Shai’s gifts create this house, it’s profoundly magical from roof to cellar, sleeping under this roof can open doors and windows that have long been closed. Because you are so naturally compatible, magically and spiritually through your bond with Thirp, you kinda got pulled along.” Becky set about making the empty beds and clearing up as she spoke, preparing for bed.
“You may become a part of our little clubhouse in the beyond, nobody really knows. You will show up there as long as you sleep under this roof, because you fit in so well with us… You might be able to find your way to us in the future, but I think that will depend on you.” Becky mused as she worked.
“Really? That’s a real place?” She asked softly while changing into the exquisite shift Shai had gifted her and climbing into bed with Becky, releasing a comfortable sigh.
“Real is a relative term…” The priestess yawned and wrapped herself around Angie, smiling happily. “I made my jammies in flannel for the softness… this silk though…” She murmured as they drifted off together, rain pattering softly at the windows.
#
Angie woke buried in children, reminding her of her days in the youngling’s barracks, before her fosterage with duchess Sheng. Sleeping alone had been her only regret, a dull ache that would never return, now that Thirp and Marduk were nestled in her soul.
She could feel her Contracts, so warm and snug, exactly the way her new leg felt… complete, whole, a pleasant and satisfying sense of rightness in her breast.
“Morning, sister. Help me get these brats moving.” Becky said, kissing her cheek warmly. “Busy day today, the rest of your troupe is coming by at third bell for Gary to look over. Could you watch the little ones when they get here, I’ll be helping Gary with the work downstairs and Shai has a meeting at the orphanage.”
It took a bit of work to get the kids underway and dressed… mostly Wilford, he was still not feeling pants. They put the kids to their lessons, much of it surprisingly advanced for such little tykes. Amy and Rio were reading to Wilford from something called ‘The Hobbit’, taking turns page by page.
She watched from the kid’s room upstairs, as her comrades and some new guy assembled in the garden, all looking very uncomfortable.
Wilkes was chatty and gregarious as always, but the movements of his hands said he was moments from having an episode. Wendel stood straight and tall, save that he kept his stump tucked behind himself as the duchess reviewed her small band.
Cameron was as he always was, tall, ridgid, unmoving and swathed in his dark robe, hood, veil and gloves, despite the warm sunshine.
The duchess addressed them for a few moments, inaudible through the panes. Shai’s strange man spoke to Cameron, apparently demanding to see his face before allowing him inside. Satisfied, they all marched off together, vanishing into the man’s workshop of miracles and terrors.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
She kept the kids at their lessons til fifth, following Becky’s lesson plans through math, music and something called ‘science’. With the last peal of the bell, they all went down to the public baths for some fun.
#
The strange man was measuring Wendel’s stump and making notes in a book while whistling a happy song to himself. Becky kept up a steady stream of pleasant chatter, while serving tea to the befuddled warriors. Orlando seemed deeply conflicted, watching Gary work on the maimed swordsman.
“It seems that hands would be far more intricate than feet, but Gary says they are the same, essentially.” She shrugged happily while passing out warm buttered biscuits and pouring tea. “I’m just starting to learn this stuff…”
With a plaster cast of Wendel’s right hand and stump, Gary snapped his notebook closed happily.
“Expect it to arrive in a week or three, I gotta find a few more parts, I think. I can do something for the phantom pain in a few minutes. For now, smoke that, carpenter's orders…” He said, handing the man a long silly pipe stuffed with something dangerous.
He sat at his workbench, humming and mumbling snatches of rhyme and verse as he worked his strange foot powered machine, leaving Becky entertaining the guests.
“Gary says there are cords running through the body, like mana channels and qi meridians, but physical organs that transmit sensation… crazy, I know. How would you even learn that? Gross!” She shuddered visibly at the thought.
“Lady Trelawny agrees with him so… I guess it’s true… anyway, there are enchantments and runes that can numb or stun the nerves involved, stopping the pain.”
“I’m more concerned that you thought nerves were magical structures… the state of education here…” The man grumbled around a small mouthful of pins. “Think of this as needleless acupuncture that lasts as long as you wear it.” He said, handing Wendel a smooth black silk cuff with intricately carved shell and bone buttons at the closure.
With a shrug, the weary man slipped it over his stump and buttoned it closed. “I’ll try anythi-...” He said, before he stopped saying anything.
“I should have warned you. Once the pain and noise stops, the weed Liam grows will hit like a hammer… You’ll be ok, once you have some tea and biscuits.” Gary said softly as he helped him sit down.
“I like this, it’s satisfying, like making instruments…” Gary mused as he turned to Orlando. “I asked a friend about you…” He said slowly. “He says you have War Contracted where Beast should have been… the nature of your gift made a bad, but common problem worse.”
The duchess frowned and grumbled to herself, over on the sofa with the still silent and rigid Cameron. “It’s a careless and lazy practice. Just because War and Order will Contract anyone doesn’t mean that they should Contract everyone…”
Many indentured orphans received a standard suite of Contracts on their day of indenture, usually three from War, followed by three from Order. This saved the time, expense and effort of arranging Contracts with other beings. The ritual bonds and sigils would create false synergy and imitation resonance, to Contract otherwise unaffiliated or even incompatible beings together.
Order could and often would release incompatible orphans, once their indenture ended, allowing them to try and negotiate their own Contracts where they could. The effects of being partially Contracted in that manner were debilitating and long lasting, growing worse with each rank the sufferer had attained, so few took that option.
War’s touch was eternal, as that being could not or would not release any Contract, ever. Even in cases like Liam’s where the bond was in open conflict with the person’s soul, War never let go.
“A Contract with Beast is the only real answer of course, but I had an idea. The problem is not your gift, but your Contract. I watched and listened as we rode together bro, your gift was reaching out, trying to connect with your mount’s Animus, but War’s touch is terrifying to horses.” He chattered on as he worked, polishing some small objects with his strange whirring tool.
“I started working on these a few days ago, after Beast clued me in on your problem. The trick is to link your gift to your mount’s Animus without letting War get involved.”
He turned around, holding three small silver objects in his hand.
“The big silver cuff goes in your horse’s nose, it just clings there… The two little ones, sorry they gotta go on your nipples… permanently.” He held up a pair of shiny metal pincers with deadly looking needle points, which he made clash together, by squeezing the handle.
#
“ A little swelling and bleeding is normal… ya big baby…” Gary grumbled, while rubbing his freshly punched jaw. “Hell of a right cross though…” He suddenly stopped, cocked his head to the side and stared off into space, his eyes unfocused.
“Gary?” Becky asked quietly.
Instead of an answer, he turned and bolted for the stairs.
#
Lester Nesmith was having no luck finding a room, he wound up renting the loft of a hay barn near the stables beside the Uplands Gate. The loft came with all the amenities one would expect, so he was grateful for the mild weather.
He was following the trail of a much rumored bathhouse, down into the market ward. Days on the road from Fort Pasture had left him desperate for a bath and feeling gross. Inquiries at the trade office netted him only a smile and a firm answer.
“There are no bathhouses registered for trade in the town of Wheatford or its surrounds. They are prohibited from commercial operation by decree…” The enormous young knight with scars across his face, flipped through his pocket law book for a moment.
“Ahh! Ducal decree three seven eight dash four. In the reign of duke Thaddeaus Belen, some two hundred years ago. It has a special addendum, banning the cult of Joy… That was overturned by the council, but the ban on bathhouses remains in effect… a pity.”
Tony locked eyes with the Oddsman and spoke softly. “Your guild’s activities are largely proscribed by ducal decree, here in Wheatford. You may act as you will, as any citizen may… Remember that you will receive no special treatment, if you exceed those bounds, master Oddsman.”
“Noted, sir knight, but as for a bath… is there an inn with any public facilities, or must I jump into the river with a bar of soap and a flannel like a filthy tribal?”
“I was about to inform you that public bathing at the river is traditional here… and private places may be found along the banks for those who are shy. Good day citizen.” Tony said firmly, with all the welcome and fellow feeling of a clenched fist.
Lester stalked the market ward, with tiny bits of hay in places he had been unable to properly… a waft of steam, scented with herbs and the mineral tang of a hot spring caught his nose… just a tickle of a hint. He tracked that wandering zephyr, through the stall and across the stone bridge, to a high walled garden and a strange shopfront.
Shai’s Forge and Foundry
And beside that, the icon of a massive, blunt ended coil spring. There was more signage, but that seemed unimportant, compared to the column of steam he saw rising up from the garden.
A bell jingled merrily, as he entered the shop front. There was no one present so he lingered, looking over the goods. He was no armsman, nor musician, but they had a great selection of those long, silly pipes that had become so fashionable. Behind that display sat a bank of stoppered jars filled with herbs of all kinds.
A few moments later, a massive red haired man squeezed through a sliding door that would comfortably fit any normal human.
“Welcome to Shai’s forge and foundry, the proprietor is out at the moment. How can I help you?”
“These pipes and herbs… I would like to procure a selection… They will make lovely gifts when I return to the capital…” He said with a significant look. That was usually enough to fluster and excite small town rubes.
The big man nodded soberly and brought a rack of pipes around, placing the two dozen smoking devices on the counter for inspection and selection.
“The clay pipes are crafted by a local potter, master Mikkel, the plain, short ones are a copper bit, up to a copper mark for the fancy ones. He will accept custom orders for sculptural art pipes.” He said, reaching for another rack of pipes, these were crafted in wood, stone, bone and stranger things.
“The wooden and… other pipes are crafted by a local artisan who deals only in barter, he can only trade like for like. Tell me what you are interested in, he or his agent will barter with you when they’re available... I don’t work that side of the business.”
“Barter? Never mind then, perhaps you can assist me with something else…” His oily and ingratiating smile returned, supplanting a look of mild distaste at the thought of bargaining with some backwoods whittler for trinkets.
“I couldn’t help but notice the signs that a hot spring exists on this property… is it… suitable for bathing, good sir?” Lester asked smoothly, with an unctuous smile.
“The baths are not open to the public. May I ask who sent you?” The giant asked, peering closer at the smaller man.
“I am master of the Fort Pasture Oddsman’s guild… No one needs ‘send me’... where is the master of this shop? I would speak to your supervisor!” He barked firmly.
“They are not seeing visitors today… sir. Do come again.” The massive man said, fixing him with a glare that suggested a rapid departure would be best. The giant watched him depart the shop, before locking the door and placing a red painted wooden circle in the window, indicating the shop was closed.
Lester observed the man through the windows, as he headed back through the door in the back and down a flight of stairs, out of sight.
The Oddsman rankled and stewed over his treatment, watching from the roadside for a while, until he noticed a steady trickle of people, locals, obviously.
They were strolling down a hedgerow beside the river exiting the garden through a gate in the wall. Most were bearing baskets with towels and looked fresh and well groomed on their way out.
He drifted along, strolling the path beside a sailor, heading for the pier. Not so close as to be noticed, but close enough to seem like he was with him. At the garden gate he turned left and strolled in, mustering his Mantle of Authority gift to wash his aura in a profound sense of belonging.
Something halted him at the gate, clinging to his face like spider webs, a creepy and unwelcome feeling from somewhere. It plucked at his aura and rankled him, like being barked at by a large, scary dog. He shook it off and pressed on, giving the quiet, empty garden barely a glance, as he headed for the sound of water and column of steam.
He was intercepted by a small force of locals at the low wall and hedge surrounding the house proper.
“Hi, I’m Amy… Are you s’posed to be here?” A tiny child in a blue robe asked, eying him at the entrance to the baths.
“Yes I am, run along, child.” He snapped. A moment later, two boys stepped up behind her, one in a green robe and one naked and still dripping wet.
“Wilf… you’re nakie.” The robed boy said to the nude urchin, who shrugged.
“I don’t think you’re sposed to be here, mister.” The girl said again. “Run along please, it’s bathtime.” She pointed to the garden gate behind him. That was when he noticed her tiny wooden Adventure badge, pinned to her robe.
“Are you an orphan of Wheatford, child?” He asked, speaking more crisply.
“Yeah… we’re Venturers. With the guild! Ginger Dreadnought!” She announced happily. “This is our house.”
“Orphans… well you come with me… I’m having a bath and you are answering some questions!” He grabbed her by the arm and began walking, dragging her along...
The little nude boy ran over and stood directly in front of him, stopping the Oddsman in surprise. He frowned at the brat and unleashed a little of his Aura Of Impatient Importance gift on the urchin.
“Hey! Let go! I’m warnin’ you!” She yelped.
“Silence whelp! You’ll be answering me soon enough!” He gave her a small shake and took a halfhearted kick at the naked boy, who kept getting in his way.
The tiny girl in his grip, squirmed around and snapped at him in a sharp, clear voice, not childlike at all. “Was that an aura attack? Did you just…”
He hit her with it too, as well as the other boy for good measure, to silence the prattle. “You will follow my instructions and answer my questions.” He snapped, putting a little pressure on her arm.
“Nuhh uhh! Nope!” The brat yelled at him, starting to wriggle more violently.
The two boys, rather than fleeing, glared at him and shouted something childish and stupid.
“Stranger Danger!”
They kept following and yelling that strange phrase. Lester ignored them and began dragging the girl off, out of the garden.
“Orphan trash, you will learn to follow the commands of your betters!” He muttered.
“NO!” The child shrieked improbably loud, the sound struck his ears like a lash. In return he struck her a light blow across the face, as a warning. She fell silent staring at him in shock, as did the other two.
“You hit me.” The girl said coldly, falling still.
“Yes, and I will beat you properly if you disobey again!” He snapped, dropping her to the ground roughly. She looked up with a cold light in her eye, as the two boys backed away silently.
No.
She sang the word, not loudly, but it struck him below the eye with sharp, stinging pain. He raised his hand to his cheek and blanched, as it came away slick with blood. A bitter, tight coldness spread from his cheek, creeping over his face and down his neck.
He glared at the two boys, looking for the one who had thrown something. They were holding toy musical instruments and smiling as they played, when the girl sang again, her voice high, sharp and crisply punctuated…
A few times I've been around that track…
So it's not just gonna happen like that…
'Cause I ain't no hollaback girl…
I ain't no hollaback girl…
Each phrase and stanza lashed him across his chest and arms, rending his garments and scoring bright weals on his skin… somehow. That wretched, creeping cold spread from the wounds, filling him with a dread he had never felt.
That tiny girl stood there, flogging his body and soul with a debilitating stream of empowered sonic attacks; the worst part was, he could feel her holding back. Her frown of displeasure and anger was tinged with loathing for the act, even as she continued switching him viciously rather than carving his flesh into bloody rags.
“Amy! Stop!” A girl’s voice shouted from behind them. Angie came running as swiftly as she could, it was a new skill for her. When she stumbled to an ungainly halt and they all looked back, the man was gone.
#